Not Exactly Love: A Collection
by ThomasWalkman
Summary: A collection of one-shots, ranging all genres and ratings, sometimes canon-compliant, sometimes completely AU.
1. Not Exactly Love

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. To my continued misfortune I am making no money from this.

A/N: I'm turning this into a **collection of one-shots**, mostly because I like writing one-shots and don't want to clutter up the Anne of Green Gables section of ff. **Ratings** for the one-shots found herein range from **K to M**. They range **all genres** and go from **less than 1000 words** to **more than 5000 words **(though probably less than 10,000 words!). This will update **Mondays or Tuesdays**, but **not regularly**.

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**NOT EXACTLY LOVE**

Summary: Six characters contemplate on what love is and is not.

Genre: Drama/Romance, sort of

Rating: M (for sexual scenes, though not _very_ explicit)

Warnings: **Some femslash** (girlxgirl/lesbianism)

Note: Several lines taken from chapters 38 ("False Dawn"), 41 ("Love Takes Up the Glass of Time") and 29 ("Diana's Wedding") of _Anne of the Island_.

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**ONE.**

Stella Maynard and her Aunt Jamesina were in the sitting room. Aunt Jamesina was settled in on one of the more comfortable couches while Stella sat on one of the oval braided mats. The room was full of brown boxes, boxes that contained all the material possessions that the occupants of Patty's Place had gathered over the years of their stay in Kingsport. But now it was almost time to leave: Aunt Jamesina would be going with Rusty and the Sarah-cat to her hometown; the three girls she looked after would all be going their separate ways. Philippa Gordon would soon be Mrs. Jonas Blake, and they would move to Patterson Street. Priscilla Grant had lately been very active in the church group and was gadding about with someone who had promise as a missionary. Anne Shirley would undoubtedly marry Royal Gardner. As for Stella, she had been offered a position at a school in Calgary, and there she would teach until she, too, found the love of her life.

There was a knock at the door. Phil came rushing down the stairs and flung the door open.

"Roy! How good of you to come by. Here to see Anne, I presume?"

He nodded, his serious demeanor seeming even more serious this particular evening. "Yes indeed, Phil. Could you get her for me?"

"Oh! Roy," said Anne, walking down the stairs. "I'm here."

"Anne," he said, with the special smile he reserved for her. "Would you care to join me for a walk in the park?"

Anne smiled shyly. But there was a something missing in her eyes – yes, that usual sparkle of life was dimmed, replaced instead with a gleam of uncertainty. "I would love to. Just let me fetch my coat."

Coat fetched, Roy and Anne walked out the door.

"Anne is a very fortunate girl," observed Aunt Jamesina.

"I suppose so," said Stella, shrugging her shoulders. "Roy is a nice fellow and all that. But there's really nothing in him." Stella thought that he was very much like a well-cut diamond: he was brilliant, had the well-polished manners of a true gentleman, and exuded money and class. But diamonds were so cold, so – colorless. She had seen him at his most vulnerable, and even then, there was a hardness to him that would just not let anybody in.

"That sounds very like a jealous remark, Stella Maynard," said Aunt Jamesina rebukingly.

"It does – but I am not jealous," said Stella calmly.

x

She thought back to when she had first met Royal Gardner, on one of the days that he had come calling after Anne. His handsome, heroic good looks had immediately caught Stella's eye. Stella's vivid rosy cheeks and intense dark hair and eyes had similarly caught Roy's attention. Since then, Stella had been on the look out for a chance to speak with him alone.

The evening of a Philomathic meeting, Phil had yet another social event to attend, Priscilla was writing a Greek exam, and Anne was at home, sick. Stella took the opportunity.

"Roy!" she exclaimed, catching up to him as he left the building. Roy turned around.

"Stella! Will you let me walk you home? I'm dropping these off for Anne," he said, gesturing to a bouquet of flowers with a "Get Well Soon" card attached. Stella acquiesced and they headed towards Spofford Avenue.

"We never do get much of a chance to talk alone, you and I," said Stella, teasingly. Roy smiled at her.

"No, and you do seem like an intriguing person. Well," he added, "Anyone who keeps company with Anne, Phil and Priscilla is bound to be an interesting person."

"Hmm. Let's discuss this somewhere more private, what do you think?" proposed Stella, her eyes slowly taking in his form from his toes to the top of his head.

Roy, who was quite a handsome man, knew an offer when he heard one. Apparently, Stella rated, as he soon ushered her to the house he boarded at while he studied at Redmond.

Like a diamond indeed. Stella soon discovered that Roy had hard planes everywhere.

x

It wasn't until midnight that Stella made it to Patty's Place. She had done her best to smooth her rumpled hair and clothing. She sneaked into the house but to no avail; there sat Aunt Jamesina.

"And where have you been, young lady? It's nearly midnight!"

"Oh Auntie, I'm so sorry, I should've told you before hand but I couldn't know…some of us girls from the Philomathic Society went to see that play the Seniors are putting on. It finished late and I couldn't get here till midnight."

Fortunately for Stella, Aunt Jamesina was getting old, and her eyesight didn't detect the tell-tale traces of a night – or a late evening, rather – spent with a man.

"That's alright, dear. Goodnight, now!"

"Goodnight, Auntie," said Stella, heading to her room.

x

She hadn't _meant_ to sleep with Roy, of course. She just liked men, especially the handsome, inscrutable ones. Stella always made sure that they weren't in love with her, and assured them that she wasn't in love with them, either. It was just for fun, a way to enjoyably pass the time. Admittedly, it was also sometimes helpful in simplifying her life. Susy's father complained incessantly about Susy's lack of progress in school. But he was a lonely widower, and became much easier to deal with after they had been together.

She sometimes felt some remorse, but it didn't _really_ matter, did it? It didn't count as long as they weren't in love, and she always made sure the men she slept with weren't married. Adultery would be simply immoral, she had no doubt.

In any case, Stella had seen Roy being passionate while not being in love. And that was exactly how he seemed whenever he was around Anne - loving, but not quite in love. And Stella could plainly see that Anne wasn't her real self when she was around Roy. There was less of the sparkling laughter and misty dreaminess, and more of the mundane practicality and almost-romantic melancholy.

x

"I love Anne and I like Roy," she continued. "Everybody says she is making a brilliant match, and even Mrs. Gardner thinks her charming now. It all sounds as if it were made in heaven, but I have my doubts. Make the most of that, Aunt Jamesina."

**TWO.**

"I thought you loved Christine Stuart," Anne told him, as reproachfully as if she had not given him every reason to suppose that she loved Roy Gardner. Which, she now knew, she didn't.

After she had turned down the marriage proposal, Stella had confessed to Anne about her past indiscretions with Roy. To Stella's surprise, this didn't shock Anne. There was, of course, a very good reason why Anne wasn't shocked, though that reason was not one that she would tell Stella. But she still felt like it should have at least bothered her. When it didn't, Anne knew definitively that she felt nothing for Roy.

Gilbert laughed boyishly.

"Christine was engaged to somebody in her home town. I knew it and she knew it. When her brother graduated he told me his sister was coming to Kingsport the next winter to take music, and asked me if I would look after her a bit, as she knew no one and would be very lonely. So I did."

x

"Oh! Are you Gilbert Blythe?" Gilbert looked around to see where the voice had come from until his eyes fell upon a tall girl with shiny black hair, large dark-blue eyes, and very fair skin. In a word, she was stunning.

"Y-yes," he stammered. He loved Anne, true, and thought her the most beautiful girl in the world; but he could still appreciate beauty when he saw it. "You must be Christine Stuart. Ronald's told me you're quite the accomplished young lady. Please, let me get your bags."

"Thank you very much Mr. Blythe."

"Oh, it's just Gilbert."

"Well then, Gilbert, what are you doing at college?"

"I'm taking a B.A. and plan to go into medicine. Your brother told me you were doing music…what instrument do you play?"

"Cello," she replied, as Gilbert helped her onto the carriage. "And I sing."

"Lovely." He got into the carriage and closed the door. The buildings flew past as they were pulled towards Redmond College. "Do you do any elocution, by any chance?"

"Oh, no," she laughed, waving her hand, "I don't have the dramatic flair for it."

x

"And then I liked Christine for her own sake. She is one of the nicest girls I've ever known. I knew college gossip credited us with being in love with each other. I didn't care," he continued. One of the nicest girls indeed: she was polite, kind, loved her family immensely, and played the cello majestically.

Gilbert took Ronald's request very seriously and made sure to escort Christine to all the social events he was invited to. He also went out of his way to regularly attend her recitals. They soon became very good friends.

It was after one such recital that Gilbert put his foot in his mouth yet again. Christine was playing the last few strains of Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, the warm sound of the instrument resonating through the hall and sweeping the audience up into an ecstasy of sound. She was given a standing ovation. When the audience cleared out, Gilbert walked up to the stage, where Christine was packing her music and cello away. He waited patiently until she had finished, then offered to carry the cello out to the carriage.

"Oh no, Gilbert," she teased, "No one touches my baby."

"That precious, is it?"

"More precious than a puppy dipped in diamonds!"

Gilbert stuck his tongue out, and then smiled. Christine was a sight to behold on that particular night, eyes bright and starry, hair done up elaborately, the blue dress accenting her whole look. He felt something growing in his heart...it wasn't love, though. He knew what _that_ felt like. What he was feeling now was more of a skewed almost-platonic but not quite affection.

He thought of this in contrast with his feelings for Anne; and then in his mind he saw a vision of a long, dark, chilly hallway. At the end of the hallway, he saw himself sitting on a couch in front of the fire, with a pipe in one hand and a medicine text in the other. He was in a large, dusty, empty house. A few moments passed, but no one came to sit by him; no small bodies climbed onto his lap demanding to be told stories.

He shook his head. Alone. That wouldn't do. He needed someone to be with.

"Christine," he said in a rush, hoping that it would make the lie seem less fake, "I think I love you."

She looked at him with such pity in her eyes that he had to look away. She wasn't supposed to be feeling sorry for him.

"Gil…" She trailed off, searched the ceiling for words, and apparently found them. "I like you a great deal, you know. But you _know_ that I'm engaged."

"Yes…but..." Gil started, but Christine held up a hand - her left hand - cutting him off.

"You wouldn't fall in love with a married woman, would you?" The diamond ring on her finger glinted even in the dark.

Gilbert, who had been (and remained) in love only once, felt that he couldn't comment on that. Instead he said:

"I don't see you as a married woman. I mean, engaged is pretty serious, but you can always break off an engagement…"

"I love George, though. You know that! No matter how much I _like_ you, I couldn't _love_ you in that romantic sense."

"What's wrong with me?" he asked as he sat down, miserable, on the steps leading up to the stage. "Rejected twice."

Christine sat down daintily beside him.

"Gilbert, there's nothing wrong with you. You're a perfectly respectable chap and any girl would be lucky to have you. I'm flattered and if I didn't have George I'd take up with you in a minute."

She paused, and an awkward silence ensued. Eventually, it lapsed into a companionable one, as Gilbert had another vision. In this one, he and Christine were at a dinner party in the gardens of a grand, statuesque, warm and lively house. The music and conversation stopped as the guests greeted the host and hostess walking arm in arm out the door. There stood Roy and Anne. He subtly gripped Christine's hand and smiled at her as warmly as he could; still, he felt like something was _off_.

"Gil, come back to Earth," said Christine, waving her hand in front of his eyes. He started and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. She smiled, restating what she had just said now that she had his attention. "Gil, I'm not entirely sure that you really do love me," she said, raising a skeptical eyebrow, "but I know you're still in love with the Perfect Anne, and will probably always be."

Gilbert sighed as Christine laughed and admonished, "Don't you ever settle for a second-rate love, Gilbert."

x

"Nothing mattered much to me for a time there, after you told me you could never love me, Anne. There was nobody else – there never could be anybody else for me but you." Gilbert considered his blessings. If Christine had accepted his advances, he wouldn't be holding Anne in his arms right now. "I've loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school."

**THREE.**

"You look just lovely. Di, darling, kiss me goodbye for the last time. Diana Barry will never kiss me again."

"Diana Wright will, though." She leaned in and gave Anne what was intended to be a quick peck on the lips. Anne tried to tempt Diana's mouth open, but Diana held out and remained stubbornly close-lipped. "There, mother's calling," said Diana, with a shaky breath. "Come."

They walked out of the room and down the stairs, waiting just outside the parlor. On the other end of the hall stood Gilbert Blythe. He and Anne walked towards the centre of the parlor and met at the top of the stairs. They shook hands, following which they swept up the aisle arm in arm.

Diana felt a sheet of cold envelop her, her jealousy almost physically manifesting itself. Her throat burned, the world was tinged in red, and she clenched her fists, the bouquet she held crumpling the slightest bit. Just as quickly, the feeling was gone, and Diana sighed; though whether in relief or sadness, she couldn't tell.

If it wasn't one it was the other. Diana had kept away from Gilbert for Anne's sake, but had always felt a bit jealous of Anne. When Anne had initiated a more…intimate…relationship with Diana, Diana became jealous of Gilbert, though she couldn't manage to keep away from Anne.

x

Anne never did have exactly orthodox views of God, heaven, and all of religion. Diana supposed it was because Anne had almost been a perfect heathen before arriving at Green Gables. So many years of disregarding God did funny things to you in regards to beliefs.

It began on a summer night, after Anne's sophomore year at Redmond. Anne was sleeping over at Diana's house. They were getting dressed for bed.

"I _don't_ want to talk about Gilbert Blythe," bit out Anne, as she tugged her nightshirt over her head.

"But Anne, I can tell. There's something that's bothering you about it."

"Yes! What bothers me is that I can't imagine why he had to go and propose."

"Because he _loves_ you Anne," Diana said reproachfully. "Don't you understand that? Use some of that imagination of yours, then, Anne. He wants to marry you so that he can be with you forever."

"Forever is such a long time, in any case," said Anne, flopping backwards onto the bed. Diana finished changing and followed suit. "I will grow up to be an old maid. I'll visit you on occasion, you know, when you're old and married and I'm old and alone, so do save a spare room for me."

"I'll save my very sparest of spare rooms for you, Anne," said Diana. "In any case, you'll never be alone so long as you have me."

Anne stretched her arms and clasped her hands behind her head. "Oh, but it'll be very different once you're married, Diana. To Fred! I still don't understand it."

"Well, he certainly doesn't have your slender figure, Anne," laughed Diana. "But neither do I. I'm not marrying him for his looks, Anne – I'm going to marry him for his kind spirit."

"Why, Diana! That sounds like something I would say. I'm quite proud of you," said Anne, giggling. Then Anne's eyes trailed Diana's figure, giving Diana the oddest feeling - cold and warm at the same time. "Your figure is lovely, Diana." She sat up and trailed her palms along Diana's stomach. Diana could feel her stomach muscles tighten, her breathing accelerate. "You have curves," and here Anne lightly cupped Diana's breasts, making Diana gasp, "Where I do not," she finished, cupping her own breasts forlornly. Recovering from the shock, Diana scrambled to sit upright.

"Anne!"

"Diana!" mimicked Anne. She reached out and carefully tucked a lock of hair behind Diana's ear. "Listen to me carefully, Diana. You are a very special person. I love you very much, you know."

She leaned in and touched her lips to Diana's. She gave an experimental flick, brushing her tongue against Diana's lips, who opened her mouth in surprise. Anne took the opportunity and deepened the kiss, stroking tongue with tongue.

Diana pushed Anne back, breathless.

"Anne!" she said, unable to say anything else for a few moments. She finally composed herself enough to continue speaking. "This is…wrong!"

"You'd almost say it was _sinful_," teased Anne. Diana felt something inside her clench and grow hot all in that quick moment, and she could only think "Yes, so very, very _sinful_." Why did sinfulness seem so _good_?

Anne anticipated the question. "But it's not a sin. God wouldn't make anything that let two friends grow closer together a sin." Diana shook her head, still not getting any words out. Anne smiled. "You don't trust me? Diana, you know as well as I do that Marilla is the very paragon of virtue. I didn't even pray before I got to Green Gables, and now I'm so very involved with the church. Marilla taught me to do what's right." Another pause. "Di, darling, _this_ is…right."

She smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

x

"Anne, we've got to stop this. I'm a married woman now, you know."

"Diana, Fred loves you in his unique way. He brings you flowers and kisses you good morning and provides for you." Anne slipped two fingers into Diana, her knuckles brushing against that sensitive spot that made Diana moan so. "I love you in a different way. You are my bosom friend. Fred doesn't love you like I do," stated Anne, picking up the pace of her strokes.

"No," gasped Diana, helplessly thrusting her hips upward. "But I'm starting to think this isn't right, after all."

Anne stopped. Diana whimpered.

"I understand. In any case, I might be married soon too, and then we _really_ should stop. I'm not sure Roy would be too happy with this state of _affairs_."

"Oh, Anne, always with your words," thought Diana. Aloud, she said: "Yes, exactly." Anne got up and started to put on her clothes, but Diana grabbed her arm.

"Just…please finish…one last time," she asked breathlessly.

"Alright," said Anne dubiously. Then she grinned. "So long as you return the favor."

x

Of course after Anne had rejected Roy and decided instead to wait three years for Gilbert, they had once again picked up their old habits. It lasted right up until Anne's wedding day.

"Di, darling, kiss me goodbye for the last time. Diana Wright will never kiss me again." This time there was no rejoinder. They exchanged a kiss. Diana drew back and smiled at the vision the slim redhead made in the white wedding gown.

"I'd better get down to the orchard. I'll see you in a moment, Anne."

Anne smiled serenely as Diana scampered down the stairs. She quickly took her place in the circle of family and friends and held Fred and Little Anne's hands.

A minute later and Anne walked down the stairs. She glided up the aisle and joined Gilbert, to be forever bound in holy matrimony.

Diana took a moment to think that _this_ was right, that _this_ was supposed to be. She felt a bit uneasy at the thought, as if perhaps her heart were made of glass and if she jostled it too hard it would break. But she quickly stamped down the feeling and turned her attentions back to Mr. Allan's solemn speech.

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Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: I hope I didn't make Anne seem too porny. I had to edit that Anne/Diana scene several times and still feel unsure about it. And no, I don't think 1) That Stella is a seductress and that Roy would cheat on Anne, 2) That Gilbert would try to steal away an engaged woman, and 3) That Anne and Diana are secretly lesbians, but I like exploring these avenues.


	2. Matched

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. To my continued misfortune I am making no money from this.

A/N: Review replies.

**astra-kelly**: Thanks :D I'm really tempted to expand it, but we'll see...and I agree with you about the Phil thing! I can definitely see her being protective of her friends.

**Eurpides**:Thanks! I've got another one-shot in the works that I'll put up next week, more slashy/femslashy goodness. Also, thanks for the recommendations!

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**MATCHED**

Summary: Diana runs a matchmaking service. Set in modern times.

Genre: Humor/Romance

Rating: K

Warnings: Serious amounts of fluff, slight over-characterization

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"What do you _mean_, his eyes stick out?" asked Diana, sounding a bit exasperated.

Charlie Sloane was sitting on a chair in an otherwise empty room. Three of the walls were bare and white; the fourth wall had a one-way mirror built into it with a speaker hanging above it. On the other side of said wall stood Anne and Diana, who were unrepentantly evaluating Charlie.

"It's like he's always looking very hard for something he'll never find," complained Anne. "I'd never be able to deal with having those eyes looking at me from across a dinner table."

"You've known Charlie since you were little kids and you only noticed this _now_?" commented Diana, but Anne remained silent.

"Fine," said Diana. She pushed a button on the control panel in front of her and spoke into the intercom. "Charlie, thank you for your time. We'll call you and let you know. Please inform the next man to come in." Charlie nodded and walked out of the room.

Moments later a fairly good-looking young man walked into the room Charlie had just vacated. He wasn't dressed stylishly at all, but he had an air of country honesty about him that didn't scream trustworthiness so much as gently spoke it.

"He might be a winner," commented Diana lightly. "William Andrews?" she asked over the intercom.

"Please, call me Billy," he replied with a charming grin.

Anne switched off the intercom.

"...Diana, isn't that Jane's brother? He drove us to a concert once, I think."

Diana looked surprised. "Hey! I suppose it is," she exclaimed, after a moment's though.

"Wait," said Anne, looking puzzled, "I thought _you_ were the one who picked the potential matches…"

Diana hastily switched the intercom back on. "Alright, Billy. The Mystery Woman for today has three questions for you." Diana shifted a bit to let Anne speak into the intercom.

"Question one. What is your favourite novel and why?"

"Uh, I don't really read too many books," he said sheepishly. "I just kind of...you know...like to sit in front of the TV, sometimes."

"Follow-up question," intoned Anne, though she sounded considerably less optimistic than she had been at the beginning. "What is your favourite TV show and why?"

Billy lowered his head. "I said _sit_ in front of the TV, ma'am...I kind of let the light wash over me, you know…I don't really pay attention the stories."

Anne dropped her head into her hands. "Thank you, Billy, that'll be -"

"Anne, wait," said Diana, shutting the intercom off. "Give him a chance_. Please_." She switched the intercom back on.

"Question two," sighed Anne. "Can you tell me a funny joke?"

Billy sat up straighter and smiled. "Of course! Did you hear about the two peanuts walking down a dark alley late at night?"

"No-o-o..."

"They were _assaulted_." Diana gave a small laugh at the terrible joke, but Anne wasn't amused.

"Uh, how about another one, Billy," suggested Diana, noticing Anne's expression.

"What's brown and sticky?" prompted Billy. Diana smacked her forehead and gave a groan, already seeing where this was going. "A stick!" finished Billy.

Anne pointedly arched an eyebrow. Diana sighed.

"Alright, thank you Billy. We'll call you and let you know. Please send the next man in after you."

Billy looked dejected, but nodded before walking out.

"Diana, I don't think this is going to work," said Anne.

"Don't you worry, Anne. Don't you remember the slogan?"

"_Diana Wright's is never wrong_," chorused Anne with Diana. "No wonder you liked Billy's joke," thought Anne.

"That's right! Don't worry, _Diana Wright's Matchmaking Service for Single Men and Single Ladies Who Can't Find Their One True Match_ has a 67% success rate."

"That's not extremely promising, Diana."

"But it is _somewhat_ promising, right?"

They turned back towards the mirror as the next man walked in. He was at least twice as handsome as Billy, looked far more put together than Charlie, and exuded an air of sophistication, class, and sheer romantic heroism.

"Royal Gardner?" Diana asked over the intercom, wincing over the name.

"_Please_, call me Roy," the man replied.

"Alright, Roy. Mystery Woman has three questions for you today."

Anne leaned towards the intercom.

"Question one. What is your favourite novel and why?"

"I loved _The Brothers Karamazov_, but I'd have to say my favourite novel of all time is _Pride and Prejudice._ I can sympathize a lot with Mr. Darcy."

Anne beamed, but Diana looked concerned. She leaned towards Anne and cupped her ear.

"A bit arrogant, Anne?" whispered Diana.

"Better than illiterate," retorted Anne. She turned back towards the intercom. "Question two. Can you tell me a funny joke?"

Roy sat for a few moments, pensive, before shaking his head.

"I'm afraid that the jokes I can remember are the canned ones that really aren't funny, and at this moment no real-life humorous occurrence comes to mind." He looked a bit worried, but then smoothed his expression back to its usual debonair character. "I can tell you a tale of dashing romance, though."

Diana and Anne exchanged looks. Anne shrugged. "Alright, go ahead," said Diana.

"Once upon a time," started Roy, "There was a most beautiful girl. But her beauty was hidden beneath rags and dirt. This was the early 1800's, see, and she was a poor orphan who had nobody to care for her She fended for herself for a good long while, but with not enough food and no consistent shelter she was infected with smallpox."

Anne sat in rapt attention.

"A dashing, charming, handsome prince rode into town on his gleaming white horse. He wanted to see for himself the conditions of his city. Most displeased, he asked to speak to a common peasant.

'That one there,' he said, pointing at a girl lying on the side of the road in a ditch, half-alive. The servants brought her towards him. 'What is your name, young miss?'

'I don't remember ever having a name,' she uttered quietly. The prince took in the bedraggled, sickly state of the girl.

'What ails you?'

'It is the smallpox, Your Majesty,' she said.

'Have you no one to care for you?' demanded the prince. The girl mutely shook her head. 'This is unacceptable. Let us bring her back to the castle.'

To the castle she was brought. The servants fed and clothed her, then brought her back before the prince.

'Why, you're an absolute vision!' he said. The girl smiled shyly at him.

'Thank you, sir.'

'No honorifics necessary. Just call me Ro...'" Roy paused for a moment and seemed to think better. "'Ron,' said the prince. 'And I will care for you. I will nurse you back to health; or if you succumb to smallpox, I will be there by your side until the end.'"

Roy paused, deciding what direction to go with the story. He decided:

"The prince did so, and stayed with her till the end. After she had died and had a stately, grave, dignified funeral, the prince himself succumbed to smallpox, and died. He was buried beside her. The end."

Anne was in tears at this point. Diana shut off the intercom.

"Anne! That story was ridiculous."

"But it's the _sentiment _behind it that's important, Diana. Roy is telling me that he will be beside me, for better or worse."

"Just ask him your last question, Anne," huffed Diana.

"Question three," Anne said, "What can you tell me about your best friend?"

Roy considered the question.

"I have had many close friends," he said slowly. "But my best friend is a man by the name of Edward. He worked as a lawyer - in a small firm, but he did good business. However, I urged him to follow his dreams, and he recently decided to give up practicing law to move to Japan and become an umbrella-maker. He now credits me with bringing his life true joy."

Anne and Diana both looked skeptical at this, but had no further questions.

"Alright, thank you Roy. We'll call and let you know. Please send the next man in after you." Roy stood up, bowed gracefully, mouthed 'Thank you', and glided out of the room.

"Well, Diana," said Anne, "I'm pretty sure we can call that a success. You know, I'll go and see if I can't catch up with Roy and tell him he's got a 'yes' right now."

"But Anne, Roy was so..." But Diana stopped, realizing that she'd get nowhere if she pointed out Roy's general insufferableness. Anne would somehow contrive it into being something romantic. "Don't you want to give the next guy a chance?"

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Anne. "I already know who I want to pick."

"Don't be so sure," said Diana, looking pointedly back towards the mirror. Another man had come in, replacing Roy. Anne followed her gaze and gasped.

"Diana!! Did you know about this?"

Diana shook her head. "Minnie takes care of this aspect of the business, usually," Diana said sheepishly.

"Diana!! Your sister does the matchmaking?" Anne frowned, then got a puzzled look on her face. "What do _you_ do, then?"

"I run the business side of things," Diana said proudly. Anne sighed.

"Well, I suppose it'd be unkind to just tell him to go," said Anne, hesitating, "And I couldn't do that to him."

There before them sat Gilbert Blythe, Anne's childhood nemesis, teenage rival, and college friend. His advances had been continually and consistently rebuffed by Anne, and though they were still close, their friendship has become the definition of Awkward.

"Gilbert Blythe?" asked Diana. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"You know it's me, Diana."

"Alright, no need be like that, Gil," huffed Diana. "The Mystery Woman has three questions for you."

"Question one," said Anne softly. Gilbert raised his eyebrows and gave a small smile. Anne turned off the intercom and glared at Diana. "He knows it's me!"

Diana frowned. "You got this from just one facial expression? Maybe he's just in a happy mood."

Anne sighed, and switched the intercom back on. "What is your favourite novel and why?"

"Well, it's really hard to pick just one," said Gilbert seriously. "Books are like ice cream. Chocolate, mint chocolate chip, fudge, brownie, Chunky Monkey - I like them all."

"So long as it has chocolate in it," teased Anne, before she clamped her hands over her mouth.

"You're not supposed to answer back!" hissed Diana. Gilbert laughed.

"It's alright, Diana," he said. "Yeah, that's true. But that makes my metaphor even better - I like 'em all, so long as they're tasty. No, wait, that doesn't quite work either," he said, frowning. "Anyhow, if I had to pick just one, I'd pick a really angsty one, or a very funny one - like 1984 - so hilarious! - or maybe a Terry Pratchett book - very heart-wringing."

Anne chuckled. Diana quickly realized this had the potential to continue for a long time. She had to intervene if she wanted this to get anywhere.

"Next question," she said, nudging Anne.

"Question two," said Anne, "Can you tell me a funny joke?"

"Not like a knock-knock joke or anything, no," said Gilbert, "But I can tell you a funny story?"

"Okay."

"Alright. So, I had this friend once - well, have this friend, more like - she used to get into _all sorts_ of trouble when she was younger. Anyway, I kind of poked fun at her once, you know, to get her attention sort of, and - oh, Diana, you know the story - I said something like 'Your head looks like it's on fire', and probably also something about how she would make a good buoy in the sea, or maybe something about if the class ever got separated during a field trip we could just use her as a meeting point, she's that hard to miss – it's possible said all of these, come to think of it."

Anne was visibly reddening. Diana watched the spectacle, morbidly fascinated.

"This was back in elementary school, so we were still changing out of our boots and into indoor shoes, you know, and leaving our boots to the side of the classroom. So she jumps up, grabs my pair of boots - don't ask me how she knew they were mine - opens a window, and _defenestrates _them. She throws them right out!"

Gilbert paused, clearly relishing the story.

"'You mean, hateful boy!' she yells – I'll never forget that - and then she leaves. Of course, being her, she proceeds to get lost in town and has her guardians, the teachers, and most of the town's police force looking for her. It turns out that -"

But apparently Anne had had enough of the story. She stomped out of the room and then promptly burst into the room Gilbert was in.

"Gilbert Blythe!" she exclaimed. "I can see the humour in much of the, um, incidents I've gotten into, but you _know_ that's a sore spot." She paused, then gave a bit of a chuckle. "It was pretty funny, though. But," she continued, frowning, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I just wanted to go out on a date," he said innocently. "Hoping to find my match. _Diana Wright's is never wrong_, after all."

"Well, you're disqualified," said Anne, and pointed at the door.

"Wait, Anne," said Gilbert, standing up and grabbing her hands. Anne turned even redder than she had been a few moments ago while listening to the story. "At least give me a chance to answer the third question."

"Come on, Anne, give the boy a chance," said Diana over the intercom. Anne looked suspiciously at the mirror before turning back to face Gilbert.

"Alright, Gil, what can you tell me about your best friend?"

Gilbert considered for a moment, opened his mouth, closed it again.

"Well?" asked Anne impatiently. Gilbert grinned.

"_Well_, my best friend is really someone quite special. My best friend is smart, hard-working, almost ridiculously loyal, extremely kind, very friendly, and has grace, dignity, and all that good stuff."

Anne looked befuddled. "Um, Gilbert, Charlie's a nice guy and all, but -"

Gilbert grimaced. "Don't interrupt! My best friend also has quite the short fuse and an impressive temper to go along with it, is sometimes far too blinded by thoughts of romance and destiny to do what's good for her, is known for getting stuck in awkward and sometimes just unbelievable situations, is far too insecure, and often gets lost in thought - but -"

And here he drew back, just a little, and looked right in Anne's eyes.

Anne wanted to look away. Anne never wanted to look away.

"I love her in spite of, or maybe because of, it all."

Finally Anne panicked and looked away, towards the mirror.

"_I'm_ not going to tell you what to do," said Diana's voice, coming from the speakers. With no real choice, Anne looked back at Gilbert.

Gathered some resolve.

And bestowed upon him a shy, genuine smile.

"I love you too, Gil," she said, very quietly.

Diana decided she would rather not feel like a Peeping Tom. She left the room in a hurry. Once Diana reached the lobby, she noticed that Minnie May was changing one of the signs taped on the street-facing window of the little office.

_Now with a 68% success rate!_, read the sign.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: Credit goes to the Internet for Billy's lame jokes. Anyway, this here is my attempt at (hopefully) moderate humor mixed with (hopefully not overly-)fluffy romance. Next one-shot will go back to drama/romance-ish, followed by a supernatural one.


	3. The Road, Pt I: Twisted

A/N: Agh it's way early in the morning/way late at night. BUT I finished writing the almost-final version of my English essay that's due Friday, so yes, I'm hella proud of myself. On the downside, I have to do all of my research for my final history essay this week.

--

**THE ROAD, PART I: Twisted**

Summary: It's a hopeless kind of romance.

Genre: Romance/Angst

Rating: K+

Characters: Anne/Philippa, Gilbert/Charlie

Warnings: Non-explicit and totally unrequited **slash** and **femslash**, though obvious allusions throughout. The bold/italicized lines at the beginning of the sections are lifted off _AoA_.

--

**1****.**

_**He did not see how Blythe could do it, and he, for his part, could never humiliate himself so.**_

It occurs to Charlie Sloane that 'pretty' is not how one is supposed to describe a man.

Beautiful wasn't anymore acceptable.

Charming, maybe.

Handsome, definitely.

Charlie thinks that Gilbert looked perfectly charming and unbearably handsome when he wore a sunbonnet and kitchen apron. Gilbert would doff his bonnet with grace and, well, charm, whenever he met a female acquaintance on the streets of Kingsport.

"It's not a manly thing to do, that's what it is," says Charlie, recounting the whole incident to Moody. Moody is already working on his homework, good grades necessary to become a minister.

"Hmm," says Moody. Then Moody pauses, places his pencil down carefully onto the desk, and turns to look at Charlie. "Charlie, is Anne the only girl you've ever liked?"

Charlie isn't sure why he feels caught. But he is a Sloane, and Sloanes always reply with grace and assuredness.

"Yes," he declares, "And I intend to have her marry me some day."

Moody doesn't look too sure about this.

"Charlie," he says, slowly, as if speaking to a young child, "You know that Gil has been after Anne since we were kids, right?"

"So have I," Charlie replies defensively. He drums his fingers on the table. "And I think she likes me better."

"I don't know, Charlie," says Moody. Moody is beginning to realize that, as a minister, he will sometimes have to tell people some unpleasant truths. "I've talked to Diana a few times about it, you know – Diana Barry."

"Well, what other Diana would you be referring to," scoffs Charlie. Then he makes a half-apologetic gesture, and Moody decides not to take offense.

"Diana knows Anne better than anyone else, yes?" says Moody, trying to lay his argument out logically. "Well, she says that Anne really likes Gilbert – maybe even _loves_ him" – the word sounds foreign in his mouth – "but she just doesn't realize it."

Charlie gives an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, well, _everyone_ thinks _that_," says Charlie, with a hint of impatience. He is about to continue his reply when Gilbert walks in, discarding his bonnet and apron.

"All done parading about then, eh?" asks Charlie. He hopes he sounds jovial, though he fears he sounds bitter.

Gilbert smiles at him. Charlie tries his best not to have the image of a smiling, spirited Gilbert Blythe imprinted on his mind forever.

"All done! Good thing it was a nice day today – it was fun in the sunshine, but it would've been intolerable in the rain!"

Charlie tries his best not to have the image of Gilbert under the rain, with floppy hair and soaked shirt, imprinted on his mind forever.

"I'm hoping to go out for football, you know – we never really did get to do many competitive team sports back in Avonlea."

Charlie gives up entirely in trying to stop the images.

Gilbert notes Moody studying and gives a self-deprecating groan. "Oh, I suppose I'd better get to the books too, if I want to do well this year…but hey! What say we pop over to Anne and Priscilla this evening after we all finish?"

Moody gives a sidelong glance at Charlie but nods his head in agreement. Charlie shrugs and gives a short nod.

"Great," says Gilbert, smiling the smile of a man in love. He is clearly eager to see the person holding his affections.

Moody can recognize this because he has seen that same smile on Charlie's face whenever the door to their boarding house clicks open, a smile that disappears if the person entering is not Gilbert Blythe.

**2****.**

_**I love you madly, and I'm miserable if I don't see you every day.**_

_**She really looks upon boys as good comrades…**_

Anne often engages in long-winded monologues about her sunshine world. She usually mentions the phrase 'a bend in the road' early on in these little speeches of hers.

Phil resists the urge to give a sardonic laugh. She gives a soft smile instead, encouraging Anne to keep describing her dreams.

It's hard to be cynical when faced with such a beatific personality.

Anne can make Phil believe that things will be okay. Anne can make Phil believe that the future really _is_ about the journey, and not the destination.

"How are Alec and Alonzo doing, Phil?" teases Anne. Phil grins. The poor boys don't know that they have no chance.

"I think they are doing alright. Alec has just sent me some pressed flowers, isn't that thoughtful?"

Anne laughs lightly and takes hold of Phil's arm. "Alright, Phil, and what grand gesture did Alonzo do to upstage him?"

By now, Anne knows exactly how Phil's stories go.

"Well, Alonzo wrote to all the florists around here and had them deliver bouquets of flower."

"But…?" prompts Anne.

"But incidentally, my cousin Philip is studying in Kingsport as well. Alonzo has both of us under the name 'Phil Gordon' in his address book. Philip will soon be in possession of fourteen bouquets of long-stemmed roses. Silly boy!"

Anne giggles. "Silly Phil! You have _got_ to stop carrying on like that with Alec and Alonzo," she admonishes. But there's a slight upturn to her lips, and Phil can tell that Anne wouldn't have her be any other way.

"But I'll marry _one _of them," she lies. "I just can't decide which!"

Phil glances at the clock in the corner of the living room. Anne follows her line of sight.

"Oh! I suppose it's time to go to the Philomathic. Will you be coming along this evening, Phil? I'm reading a paper this evening."

"Of course," says Phil. "I'd never miss a chance to hear your" – voice – "ideas." She thinks of what excuses she'll make to the boys who were to call tonight, but then she realizes that a smile will be more than sufficient for the boys to forgive her and come calling again.

Phil is rewarded with one of Anne's genuine, you-are-the-only-person-in-the-world smiles. Anne stands up, takes a few steps towards where Phil is sitting, and then leans down and hugs her.

It feels like a thousand rainbows have appeared in the sky, filling it with bright explosions of color and joy. It is better than 1000 of Alec's flowers or Alonzo's bouquets. It is better than being complimented on her smile or fashion sense or eyes.

"You always make me smile, Phil," says Anne.

It is being appreciated for who she is, loved for her personality and not the Gordon name, loved for her mind and not the dinner parties she throws.

"Queen Anne," she exhales, and realizes she probably sounds too obviously wistful, "That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me."

"…and he's going to be discussing _Bingen on the Rhine_, so I guess lots of freshman girls will be coming, they absolutely moon over him."

Stella and Priscilla have walked into Patty's Place and are discussing the latest campus gossip.

"_Bingen on the Rhine_?" asks Anne, wrinkling her nose. She withdraws from Phil's arms and crosses her own across her chest.

"Oh, Anne!" says Priscilla, looking surprised and more than a little awkward. "I thought you'd have already been walking towards Redmond. We just came back to get jackets, it'll be chilly this evening, so bring yours."

Priscilla has avoided the question entirely. Anne sends her an arch look before turning to Stella. Stella spares a moment to glare at Priscilla, then sighs.

"Gilbert Blythe, Anne. Gilbert's going to be at the Philomathic this evening, as if he ever misses one for something other than football games."

Phil can't quite decipher all the emotions that cross Anne's face – annoyance, embarrassment, loss, confusion, self-loathing, anxiousness, and sadness almost to the point of depression – and then her face settles on resigned. Phil is rather gifted at reading people, and she knows now, without a doubt, that Anne loves Gilbert Blythe. The left-over rainbows from Anne's hug and words dissipate into transparent, mundane air.

"I'm sorry, girls. It's just…it all gets me out of sorts," Anne says. "I'll just grab my jacket and we'll walk with you."

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: Now I feel pretty bummed for Phil and Charlie. May I just say: Anne is spirited, kind, and all-around great, but Philippa is simply fabulous: Brains, beauty, fun-loving, and people-smart, it's hard to not love her. Priscilla, Stella, and Moody: Yet more characters that LMM neglected. Anyway, this is part I of _The Road_; part II, "Bend", will be up the week after next. Next week will be a supernatural story, combined with either horror or comedy (or...both?!).


	4. It's In The Blood

A/N: Alright, this is not Part II of the Road though I'll try to get that up ASAP. This is straight up supernatural; the supernatural/horror/comedy will be up later this month.

**astra-kelly: **Thanks :) I'm not sure I buy her as gay either, but I tried my best :P Un-dead Walter sounds like an interesting idea, but I'd have to go back and re-read AoIngleside onwards since I've forgotten much of it, oops

**HSM FAN 4 LYF: **Yeah, she obviously runs quite the successful agency :)

--

**IT'S IN THE BLOOD**

Summary: There's always been something different about Anne…

Genre: Supernatural/General, AU

Rating: K+

Characters: Anne, Philippa, Walter and Bertha Shirley

Warnings: Somewhat morbid

--

"Father and Mother had both come from places far away and it was well known they hadn't any relatives living," she had once told Marilla.

Well, that was true.

"She died of fever when I was just three months old…And Father died four days afterwards from fever, too."

_That _wasn't true.

Not that Anne had known at the time.

Along with letters to and from Walter and Bertha Shirley, the lady of the house at Bolingbroke had given Anne an old, thick, yellowed journal.

Anne hadn't had the time to read it until the following day, and therein she discovered a curious fact that explained much about her life.

_My father has always regretted "the dilution of our most p__recious bloodline and heritage"_, wrote Bertha, in her loopy, elegant handwriting._ Mother always took this as a joke; but it made an impression on my six-year-old self. _

_The day came when I introduced Walt to my parents. Mother was pleased, of course: he was a perfectly respectable chap who would work hard and provide for a good home. Father was less pleased._

"_Bertha," he said, taking me aside. "On the 19__th__ year of your life I would have introduced you to a more…appropriate choice for a husband." He paused, casting a scornful look at Walter. "You are further diluting the elfin blood that lies within you."_

_I don't remember much of the argument that happened after that. __At the time, I didn't know how serious the situation was. I eloped with Walter; a few days later I received news that my mother and father had mysteriously died in an unspecified accident._

_Of course I made a few inquiries. I questioned one of my elf friends, Triessa. She was kind enough to tell me the truth despite the risk posed to her life. Father marrying mother was already a big enough offence in their view; to compound that with having a daughter who married a full human was an unpardonable crime._

About a month after Anne was born, Bertha wrote:

_I sense them getting nearer. __I keep telling Walter that we need to find a new place to live; but he's tired of running._

"_At the least, we'll be together in death," he said. "Wouldn't that be romantical? We can be together in heaven forever."_

_But what about my dear Anne? What will happen to her if we are killed?_

The entries stopped after that.

x

Anne longed to write to Gilbert, sure that he would want to hear this even with the current icy state of their friendship. She contemplated writing to Diana as well. But anyone could find a letter lying around, and the results would be disastrous.

Fortunately, he had another close friend she could depend upon and talk to in person.

"So I guess I'm a quarter-elf," said Anne, finishing the tale. Philippa sat across from her on the bed, with a stunned expression on her face. Then, Phil's clever mind began turning the concept over in her head, looking at it from all angles.

"I wonder if the Thomases and Hammonds knew the real story," remarked Philippa, very slowly, as she was still processing the information. "That might explain their utter disregard for you."

Anne shifted uncomfortably. Being one-quarter supernatural creature would definitely cause unease among the less…imaginative sort.

"But then, why would they have kept me at all?" she asked.

Philippa grinned. "Protection? You still have elf-blood in you, after all…what would the elves have done to them if they had left you to wither away to death?"

Anne contemplated this.

"Or," offered Phil, "Perhaps they wanted to have some of your magic for themselves."

"Magic?" exclaimed Anne. "I haven't any magic, Phil."

"Don't be too sure, Anne," said Phil cautiously. "Remind me again how many people have disliked you, and weigh that against how many people have instantly fallen in love with you?" Phil waited while Anne counted in her head. Then an odd grimace formed on Anne's face. Phil grinned in triumph. "Exactly. That Josie Pye you told me about is probably the only person who continues to antagonize you…maybe she's half-dwarf, or something. There's something about you Anne, always has been – something mystical. Maybe there's something to the whole kindred spirits thing, after all."

The girls sat in silence for a few moments.

"Not only that," noted Phil abruptly. "That storm that you and Gil wrote up – are you sure you didn't make that come to pass, inadvertently? And that Haunted Woods of yours, or those characters that you and your ex-pupil 'see'…are you sure you imagined them?"

"Of course," said Anne, sounding mildly affronted. But she couldn't help but entertain the notion. The ghosts and the Twin Sailors had seemed _awfully_ real…

"In any case, you might want to keep this to only a few of your friends," said Philippa. "I don't mean to worry you, but – what if the elves are after you? I don't know if they'd mean harm or good, but…"

Anne sighed. "Well, then I hope they don't come asking round my parents old house. I told that lady I was the baby…"

Phil looked at Anne in concern. Anne's expression was anxious.

"Anne," said Phil softly, "After those first 11 years, you've lived something of a blessed life – dare I say, almost a magical one. Who else would've almost drowned in a lake, fallen off a roof, and fallen _through_ a roof, and still be in one piece?"

Phil paused and offered a small, comforting smile. Anne still seemed doubtful.

"You'll be fine," assured Phil.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: The concepts here are somewhat used in my upcoming story, title undecided, coming Fall 2009. Watch for it!


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